Bike circuit completed

I made it! Over 200 kilometers in mountainous territory. I was the only female cyclist I saw until the very end of the trip, when the terrain was easier. I always like accomplishing a goal, so I’m proud of doing it and am appreciative of the chance to both get so much exercise and to explore an interesting area.

But right now, on the evening of the day four of biking, I’m exhausted. Utterly exhausted. I’m sitting at a train station waiting for a late train and dreaming of a bed. Mark was having a harder time cycling today than I was, and he got less sleep than I did last night. “It must be the pregnancy,” he said. “Because you got a good night’s rest.”

I was just thinking, during the final leg of the trip, how cool it is that I barely feel any pregnancy symptoms at all. My gratitude was tinged with a slight bit of worry that perhaps something is wrong. But I took reassurance in the fact that both my stomach and my breasts appear to continue growing.

At the end of the ride, I was able to check email and received a note from my dad, who appears to be holding up well while caring for a 2.5-year old. He said that River is going to the pool, the beach or the boat every day, which sounds like a summer camp vacation for him. He also said that they have taught River to say things like “I like hot dish,” and “Ya sure, you betcha,” that I’ll be picking up a real Swede.

I think it’s good for him to be exposed to that aspect of his heritage, so that’s fine with me. But I’m going to have to try to figure out how to say things like “I like hot dish,” in Spanish.

After this bike trip, I’ve decided I want to do another, and I’d love to do it a few years from now with River. If you have any recommendations of good bike tours to do with kids (I’m ideally looking for luggage to be transferred to the lodgings each night, the ability to set our own pace, and a route and a bike that would be appropriate for hauling a youngster) please let me know. I have a preference for Spanish-speaking areas, but would consider any place. Also, I’m terrified of dogs, so places where dogs don’t roam freely and run after cyclists also get bonus points.

How are you liking this, little embryo?

I had a little chat with my embryo today as I was slogging through a 10 mile stretch of virtually straight uphill mountain road. Unfortunately, I’m not in good enough shape to be able to ride uphill when it’s neverending, when an extra little push won’t get you to the top, but you have to keep going and going and going. So I walked most of it and it took a while – 3 hours. And that was just the beginning of my day – followed by 20+ more miles of biking with another huge uphill at the end.

Since Mark skipped the 10 mile uphill leg, I was on my own. So I asked my embryo what it thought. I asked if I was enjoying this, if it wanted to do more of it, if it would be my adventure companion in a few years. I told it that if it was really miserable, it wasn’t too late to self-abort and try its luck with other parents. From what I’ve read, the chance of a child being born to parents in a developed country that can provide it a solid income, shelter, food and education is extremely small. So it would really be rolling the dice if it was going to try its odds elsewhere. However, I’m sure there are plenty of parents in developed countries more likely to support sleeping in late and watching TV than pushing climbing mountains. So it could perhaps do better if it’s not into this stuff.

I wondered whether my increased heart rate increases its heart rate, which gets it used to (and perhaps liking?) exercise. Mark worried that the increased heart rate would just be stress to the embryo, since it’s not actually exercising.

I had River on a bike as a fetus and in a bike seat at four months old. I imagine it will be similar with this one. Hopefully seeing exercise as a normal part of life will help it/them consider exercise to be a positive and desirable thing. Hopefully they will want to accompany me on what Mark calls my “death marches” and what I call my “health marches.”

In the meantime, I am dead, dead tired. I hope my legs can function tomorrow, because I have another 50k or so to bike, plus a bus, plus a train.

The best thing about biking, besides the physical challenge, the great scenery, and the ability to take in an environment with all the senses, is being able to eat – lots. I ate like a horse today, every half hour during the hardest parts. And it was GOOD. I don’t appreciate food quite as much when I haven’t biked beforehand.

Creating an adventure buddy

So far the bike trip is going well. I’ve completed two of four days. Despite a slightly sore behind and eyes red from the high pollen count, my energy is up and I’m hopeful I can make it through the 17 kilometer up-mountain climb tomorrow morning.

Mark isn’t doing as well. He skipped the first day of the ride and will take a taxi for the 17 km uphill portion tomorrow. He made it through the ride today and I respect him for pushing through, but it was hard for him and he’s suffering.

There is nothing I love more than being out in nature for several days at a time and exerting myself towards reaching a goal. Being in a foreign culture and having exposure to a different diet, people, way of life, etc. makes it all the more enticing.

But if Mark isn’t up for it, that means either going alone (not so fun), or bringing River. I enjoy taking River on adventures, but as much fun as it may be, it’s also extra work, adding to what is already a fair level of exertion. Nevertheless, I think he’s my main prospect in the near future, so hopefully I can figure out ways in which he’ll have fun and I can manage.

I spoke to Mark about how fun it would be to do a bike tour in Spain with River. Not only would he get to ride and to enjoy the scenery, but he’d be surrounded by Spanish language, Spanish culture and Spanish food. What a great immersion experience. Then Mark said he’d like to take either River or number 2 to London for a long weekend to enjoy a soccer game. I asked why he couldn’t see a soccer game closer to home and he said that it’s the tradition of the long-existing league and the passion of the participants that make it fun.

So perhaps, we’ll both be able to provide our child/ren with special experiences that reflect our own interests, we’ll be able to cultivate those interests in our children that our partners haven’t picked up, and we’ll have an excuse to do the things we enjoy most. That of course is dependant upon having the funds to do these kinds of things. Guess I need to continue working.

The scary gene

Now that we’ve passed the period of worrying about autism, we are instead starting to worry about the mental illness gene that runs in Mark’s family. Mark’s grandfather was brilliant and successful, but endured depression so serious he tried to take his life several times. He passed this to at least one of his daughters, who passed it in lesser forms to Mark and to his brother.

It has appeared in a more powerful form in Mark’s niece. The first sign came from serious nightmares as a small child. By age 8 she was having panic attacks. By 11, she was institutionalized. It took them forever to come up with a diagnosis. For a while they thought she might be schizophrenic; now it seems to be bipolar. She’s back at home on medication and functioning, but with difficulties. She still has delusions of grandeur, thinking she can support her family on her singing and acting skills and has a hard time socially. Another daughter seems to be OK and the third is adopted.

Mark’s sister doesn’t show signs of depression, but she contracted a rare and life-threatening illness (Guillain-Barre’s), which made her so afraid she would die that she turned from a Ph.D. candidate in science to a born-again Christian stay-at-home mother of four. Her first born has some learning issues. Her second born appears to have anger issues. He has flown into rages and been destructive since his earliest days. The third is adopted and the fourth is too small to tell.

So something has come through the children of both of Mark’s siblings. I knew this was a risk when I married Mark and when we decided to have children. The members of his family are also extremely bright and I think there is a fine line between brilliance and madness. Nevertheless, you always hope that it’s not going to be your child, that you’ll be the lucky one that is not touched. I guess I just counted on that, and to a certain extent, still do.

Because River is so social and gets along with people, I figure he’s fine. But Mark still has worries. The fact that River chatters to himself at night and used to do so in the morning upon waking up is a gift in my opinion. No crying, no screaming, just calm self entertainment. Whatever he is doing is so entertaining to him that he often laughs. Mark wonders if the talking to himself is a sign of a problem.

I know several parents whose kids have or have gone through night terrors. Most of these kids seem to turn out fine. River has not yet had a night terror as these parents describe it. But he has an occasional bad dream in which he’ll call out. I figure it’s a normal part of sleep and of childhood. Mark thinks he could be following in the footsteps of his cousin.

I suppose it’s good to know the family history, to know what to watch out for, and to pay attention for signs so that problems can be addressed. But I also don’t like leaping to the worst possible conclusion, especially when there are innocent explanations available and the worst is so ugly.

We’ll continue to be thankful for his overall happy, calm demeanor and keep our fingers crossed that this gene doesn’t express itself in him (or the one on the way).

Do you worry about illnesses that run in your family striking your child? How do you balance vigilance with realism?

The long blob period

Upon visiting a friend with a five-month old child recently, Mark kept asking me questions about what River was like at that age. “Didn’t he interact more by then?” He asked. “When did he first sit up?” That was easy enough to calculate because it coincided with my first overnight trip away from him – at around age 5.5 months.

Later he commented, “I just realized how long the blob period is. That they don’t come out fully formed like little Rivers (thinking of him in his 2.5 year old state). That there is a long time in which they are only full of demands.”

I agree. The baby period is pretty boring and I’m not too excited about the blob period, or the fourth trimester. Yes, this baby’s skills seemed to be limited to smiling, waving her arms around, cooing, grabbing toys and fingers and lifting her feet. And no, these skills didn’t seem too momentous to us as bystanders.

But I do remember celebrating River’s first coo. I remember feeling so proud of him rolling over that I couldn’t wait for him to show off his new skill at mom and baby yoga (as if anyone would care). These things took on more meaning to us as parents because we knew what complete dependence he started from, and each move towards independence, however tiny, was a cause for celebration. Also, each little milestone met helped to reassure us that he didn’t have a hidden disorder that would make his life more difficult.

Hopefully, we’ll be touched by the strong parental interest again and that will help the blob period pass more quickly. That said, I do expect my butt to be tied to the couch in the initial weeks and I’m not really looking forward to that.

Taking the embryo for a bike ride

Today I went a good 35 miles by bike, probably more, in the region north of Madrid. A good chunk of this was uphill, including a switchback mountain road that I walked up in the intense late morning heat, huffing and puffing. I realized I haven’t panted so much in a day for quite some time. I also wondered how this was affecting my embryo. Was it positive in that it’s improving my fitness and perhaps giving the embryo exposure to an elevated heart rate? Or was this going beyond the recommended moderate exercise and potentially causing harm?

I thought back to the bike ride I took when I was four months pregnant with River. Then I biked in the Ecuadorian Andes and I really stressed out about the one-day trip because it began at an altitude of 4,000 meters. It turned out the altitude wasn’t a problem and the ride was a breeze because it was all downhill. I had to do nothing but apply my brake constantly and barely broke a sweat.

This one I didn’t stress out about in advance. I’m only two months along. I’m gloriously not sick. I can use the exercise. And this is the last opportunity I may have to do something like this for a while. But now that I’ve started, I start to worry a little.

While on the quiet country roads today, I thought about how nice it is to not have to think or worry about the state of my belly and who notices or doesn’t notice. No one here cares. And I don’t care what anyone here thinks. My belly can do what it needs to do and I can focus on other things.

Then, while showering at the end of the ride, my belly did seem noticeably expanded to me. Is it going to be obvious upon reappearance at work, the change that has taken place in a week and a half? Can I get the Down’s Syndrome tests done before people start to notice?

Smoking 18 month old

On the Spanish news last night, the last item of the broadcast was about how the rate of smoking has gone up five percent recently (in the past year?) despite someone dying once each minute due to cigarettes.

To illustrate their story, they showed an obese toddler from what appeared to be a low-income community in Indonesia. He was sitting on the porch of a hut, his fat congealed into rolls, puffing away on a cigarette. With his family looking on calmly and a gaggle of kids staring, he took one cigarette and lit it from another lighted cigarette. After his smoke, he lay down with a bottle of milk.

The accompanying text said he started smoking at age 18 months and that his parents started him and encouraged the habit.

This was contrasted with news about Chinese children speaking out against smoking and preparing posters depicting the dangers.

I wonder what in the world (other than an extremely low education level) would inspire parents to start their 18 month old smoking. They seem to be treating their child in the same way I’ve seen people treat monkeys or other simians behind bars, giving them dangerous substances to get a laugh at how difficult it is for them to handle the effects.

Is this child abuse or parental perogative? What do you think?